The mirror called civilization,

reflecting just shattered shadows,

silhouettes condemned to dance

against some semi-bright surface,

feelings augmented and belittled,

pain ignored and slowly festering,

all hitting the sensibly cracked mirror,

all claiming to be seen and heard

for what they were really meant to be,

for what they never stopped being.

The cracked mirror holds just images,

there´s no true, honest reflection,

just a small parody of life and death,

and sad creatures hitting the glass,

trying to escape the smouldering sheet,

trying to live, even if it is for a short time.

.